Out of the Ashes of a Shit Year, I Found Myself

Life didn’t kill my inner writer. Through this crazy, unsettling time, I found her again.

Lots of disappointment this last year: three canceled family trips, canceled summer camps, canceled holiday plans.

First days of High School, Middle and Kinder, gone. A school that isn’t really like school. Work that is in the bedroom.

We’ve lost a lot this year. Lost the use of my kitchen table as a table, lost money, lost family lost quite a bit of my sanity.

But when I sit and think and focus on the last 270 days since life changed forever, I’ve found so much.

I’ve found that I’m resourceful and strong.

I’ve found that a good cry can heal a lot.

I’ve found that technology is amazing.

I’ve found out a lot about my “friends” and that what they do matters a whole lot.

I’ve found that my kids are really amazing creatures who are resilient and capable of change.

I found that I really really chose the right person to share my life with.

The growing pains in the first few weeks were painful: the stretching and negotiation of space, of ourselves; the start of school, the start of working from home, the start of all of us, at home ALL the time. We had to bend and adapt. We had to adjust. And we did.

The feeling of being trapped, yet free. Trapped at home, but free from lots of responsibility. Free from driving around, dropping off/picking up, free of being tied to the clock.

The yin and yang of the year has shown me so much. The conversations of life, death, politics, and the realization of what is important are easier to come by.

People are willing to be more open and true. This year has brought out the truth of so many things. The truth about friends, beliefs, circumstances, dedication, how far people are willing to put themselves out there.

And although I’ve learned so much about my fellow humans, friends, family, and kids, I’ve learned the most about myself. You see, this was going to be my year. My year to discover my new purpose. My re-invention. The year when my roadblocks were gone, all kids in school….I could focus on what I wanted. I started the year nervous about what that would look like? What did I want to do? What was my passion? I’d spend long nights awake, doubting myself. Feeling like I wasn’t good at anything. Then the world changed. And my priorities changed.

My focus went from me, back to my family. Were my kids ok? Would my husband have a job? Was my family safe? Yet in this process, the process of the whole world changing….I found what I was looking for. And in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, I found clarity.

I found who I was when I am alone when I am quiet. I am a writer. I wrote a lot when I was young. I was open and fearless. Words came easily. I felt bursting at the seams with ideas and had no doubt that I was worthy of saying something. But I didn’t live in a world where the sky was the limit. I lived in a world of survival. While writing was my outlet, soon reality had to take over and I got lost in the everydayness of life. Living, working, parenting. It all pushed that writer down. And as I grew older, my fearlessness was replaced by fear. I knew what could happen, I had found mortality. Because when you’re young, you are invincible! Luckily life didn’t kill my inner writer. And through this time, this crazy, unsettling time, I’ve found her again.

Although I don’t have the same rawness of youth, what I have is the wisdom of age. I’ve seen things. Done things, and now, truly have something valuable to say and share. I never would have found a group of women to write with without the pandemic. I never would have felt the fulfillment of writing and sharing and finding my voice and peace when I write.

Out of the ashes of a really shit year, where nothing is certain, where panic is real and the sameness makes me want to scream…I found myself.

I am continuing to find my voice as a writer. To figure out what the story is I want to tell. To chase that feeling of fulfillment fast and hard. Because it’s like a drug, that feeling. So I will write.

I will write with fearless abandonment.